Perceptions of Loss
by Achilles1011
Summary: Post-4x05. Bo's reflections and musings as she slowly begins to realize what has happened, the part she played on the instruments of their destruction. A companion piece to I Wish I Could But I Cannot.


**Written for a one-shot contest. Prompt: Rewrite or extend the scene at the end of 4x05 between Bo and Lauren. **

**If you've read either of two of my other works, this fics companion I Wish I Could But I Cannot (an extension of the ending from Lauren's POV), and Talks New and Long Overdue (the conversation that never happened), then you'll know this is one topic that I'm familiar with! It was hard to write but here it is!**

**And as always thank-you for taking the time to read this, reviews and constructive-critisism are always welcome. **

* * *

There are so many things that I want to do: I want to run back, I want to apologize, to take her into my arms, to hold her close and never let go of her again, to tell her that I love her, words not spoken when I saw her once again. Whisper those delicate (damning) words in her ear until she understands, until she knows that I want her, and only her. I want to fall to my knees and beg her for forgiveness for my own stupidity, for my temper, for my inability to control myself when I need to most.

I want to yell and scream, raging and asking why! Why won't she explain what is going on, her reasons behind this decision, for there has to be an ulterior motive, she rarely makes choices without weighing the consequences to those around her, to her loved ones, putting them first before she even considers herself. But even if she her reasons are as selfish as they appear to be why won't she give _us _a chance to talk, to grow together once again, to work things out, to gain closure if it truly is doomed to fall apart, to implode within itself no matter what we do!

I close my eyes as I take a breath, the heavy atmosphere that had gathered between us still lingering, adding to the weight on my chest, the one that grows heavier, with each breath I take. My tongue is heavy, bitter with the words, phrases, sentences that I spoke to my love. The damaging, damning words that I spoke, to late to take back, and far too late to undo the harm that I have inflicted on the woman I love.

However no matter the movements I try to make, the number of times I force myself to take a step forward, a step away, to walk in any direction, I remain where I am, frozen in place, stuck in a limbo there is no escape from. The only thing I can do is take in air, pulling it greedily into my lungs as I try to suppress the emotions rising up from within me, as I try to fight for some semblance of my mind even as I try to go against my natural instincts.

Something I learned from her, from the woman that I love with all of me, but am too stupid, to unwilling, to speak the words aloud, to admit to myself that the choice that I've made, the one I was once so happy with and so sure about, and how it has hurt me, has hurt her, has hurt _us_. I don't want to admit that of all people she holds power over me, the pathetic human part of me, the one that I'm told is weaker, yet it seems infinitely stronger.

If I allow the hate and anger to consume me then I will become what I despise.

I will become _her _again; the monster that haunts my dreams, the thing that I try to run from everyday, to try and delay the inevitable because she is slowly beginning to consume me. The moments of clarity that come when I manage to wrench my mind away from her claws, from her control, they have become fewer and farther between, as something unrecognizable as _me_ claws its way out of the dark cage I banished it to the moment it began to awaken. I try to run from it, putting as much distance between myself and it even as it slowly tears apart the life that I have built for myself, the family that I have found, and the acceptance that I have craved. This monster that slowly eats away at me, taking over my body as it tightens its hold on me, tearing me away from myself until I become little more than a passenger, sitting back and watching as my life, the small one that I've built for myself, is ruined by a monster created from my blood, my body, my very nature, denied by me until it took on a manifestation of its own consciousness.

If I do not fight back the darkness, then I will loose myself to anger, to bitterness, to an infinite sadness that haunts me in the darkness of night as I lie alone in my bed. Manifestations of guilt is what she told me when she found out about the nightmares, about the past that haunts me. She says I have no reason to feel guilty over the body count that I've incurred, over the lives that I've ended and the families, the futures, the worlds, that I've ruined. But I'm still responsible for each and every one of those deaths, for every person who was killed because I couldn't control myself.

I blink my eyes trying in vain to suppress the tears welling up within them.

I've lost her; through my own stupidity I've lost her again. Everything in me is screaming to turn around and go back to her, to try and forget the look of masked hurt in her eyes as I walked away. Opening my own I blink, trying to bring the blurry green lines of the wall across from me into focus but they only become more distorted as the tears that I'm holding back buildup. They hesitate, hovering at the precipice, before something within me breaks, gives out, and they overflow, running down my cheeks and dripping onto the floor.

Everything I touch I ruin.

Clenching my hands I turn around, about to walk away, when something stops me, holding me in place, and before I can stop myself I turn around on my heel and head back towards the room I had just left. The click of my boots echoes in the otherwise silent hallway as I walk back towards the room that I had left her in.

Stopping at the corner I lean against the wall as I listen, to see if she's still there, or if she had left, just as I had walked away. She would've had to have gone the other way out of the room, the way that Evony took, towards the Dark and away from the Light. She is right about something: no matter how hard I can try to save her, she doesn't need it, she never has. The bravest person that I know, I once told her, something that still stands to this day because it took her a hell of a lot more courage to walk away from me then it did to simply fall back into my arms. That would have been the easy way out of this, but knowing her there is some more complicated, something that is deeper, a personal reason then simply the Dark treat her well.

I want to laugh at the thoughts that are filling my head, at the fact that I'm thinking about this at all! It's so not like me.

Normally I would want to throw myself into sex until I forget the world around me, about the pain that haunts me, but right now I can't even begin to think about being with another, not today, not after seeing her for the first time in so long.

Maybe I should try and find that self-help book that Kenzi made me throw out the last time something like this happened, after Dyson broke my heart, before I was ready to forgive her. I almost want to laugh at the idea because that would mean returning to simpler times, to happier times, before things got so overly complicated.

Before I joined the Dark, before I lost my memories, before I was marked and kidnapped by the Wanderer.

Everything was so much simpler back then.

I think in those times the most complicated thing in my life was trying to get over Dyson.

Not an easy task, but one that did happen, or at least I thought it had happened. I thought I had gotten over him.

I try to breath as I close my eyes, trying to prevent the tears from welling back up. I should be confused, I should be angry, there are so many things that I should feel right now, but all I want to do is go back into that room and pull her into my arms. I just want to know that she's okay, that she's safe and isn't going to run again because selfishly? I need her here with me, despite the fact that her life is in danger.

I wish I could control myself better, that I could think before I speak, that I could let go of the anger and guilt that has been bubbling inside of me since she justifiably broke up with me, since she refused to look me in the eye at Taft's lab. I wish I could let go of the flame that fanned the anger in the form of her words.

But I _can't_ because I'm stupid, weak, stubborn and selfish. I want her, and I want Dyson. I want everyone and everything. I want a life, a stereotypical- white picket fence, 1.61 children with her, but now… I don't think that's ever going to be possible, there are so many things that I've had to let go of, and more that have been slowly slipping away from me.

I smile bitterly at the memories of the Dawning, of telling her that I want her, that I want it to only be her.

What was it I said? _I want to live, I want to travel the world, but I only want to do that with you_.

It is still true, I still want her, I want that life with her, but if today's an indication then that's another thing that's slipped away from me because of _me_.

I can look myself in the mirror now and barely recognize myself, between the darkness, and the Wanderer, and the amnesia, and god knows what he did to me on that train. I think I'm going to lose myself again, I'm going to go back to that place.

I can't chose but I can.

I can't love either but I love both.

One person is my heart, but she's not all of it. She's the most important person in my life, but she's not.

Everything I touch I destroy through a combination of selfishness, self-centredness, weakness to my own desires, and so many more things that I cannot even begin to think about right now.

Liar. Cheater. Selfish. Neglectful.

And those words only begin to scratch the surface of what is happening, of who I am and who I've become. The woman who stares back at me when I look in the mirror, the one that I barely know, the one that I don't _want_ to know, but the one that is as intrinsic to me as breathing because she is a part of me, she is _me_.

"I'm sorry." I whisper as I turn and press my back against the wall. "I am so sorry."

I tilt my head back against the wall, closing my eyes as I listen, try to figure out if there was anyone there, but unlike in the movies there is not hitched breath, there is no sounds of pounding feet against the wooden floor. There is nothing is this space, only the empty silence that surrounds me, the empty oppressive silence of words unspoken, of talks that have never happened and indeed may never.

I strain my hearing, listening for my lover, to see if she is on the other-side of this wall. Is her hand pressed where mine is? Is her heart pounding in her ears as tears drip down her cheeks?

No.

Of course not.

Because that is merely a fantasy I can use to entertain myself, a scene of irony taken from any of the romantic-comedies that I have watched with Kenzi or with my lover, whose enjoyment of them is something I only found out after we started dating, and something I had teased her for relentlessly. I smile at the bittersweet memories of happier times, of times when I could pretend that we were nothing more then any other couple, two people simply in love with each other, enjoying our time together between our work and our separate lives, two people who had simply come together.

Two humans, any other couple, the fantasy that I had grown up, suddenly thrust into my grip, suddenly attainable when I thought it was banished forever to the darkest corners of my mind, the same place where the monster resides. The fantasy that at some point had become hinged on my lovers presence, on her being there as the person who I come home to and who comes home to me.

The dream that had been impossible had suddenly become real again, only to be systemically stripped away from me bit by bit as reality swept in, destroying the fantasy that we had built for ourselves, the lies that we told ourselves. The ones we had taken refuge in when the entire world had said our relationship was doomed, was forbidden.

Now, there is little choice left for me in this place, decisions that I was systemically stripped of, relationships that were being lost or broken as the monster slowly claws its way to the surface.

Hope that I had regained upon finding the simple token she had left for me, the simple note scrawled in her neatest script, the one she reserved for the special notes she had left beside me in moments of intimacy that she could not be there for. The hope had stripped away the veneer of anger, of hatred, that I had placed on her, the slander of her name in my mind.

Her token had been a balm, soothing my heart and healing the breaking and shattered pieces, gluing them back together in the most fragile of forms. But I had misread the situation, the necklace is little more than a token of gratitude it would seem, and yet that should not be what it meant, not coming from her, not a necklace coming from her.

The light object that had hung from her neck for five years, but one that had borne the weight of her world on it, had bound her in place, stripped of her freedom. There had to be more meaning to the necklace coming from _her_, for giving me a necklace is perhaps more personal than a ring could ever be in our case, because while a ring would normally bind two people together, their fingers encased in the never ending loops, it would not hold the same weight as a necklace.

The laughter bubbles up in my chest at the ridiculousness of my own thoughts, at the fact that I am thinking about the importance of a necklace from my lover of all things. I smile bitterly at the reminder of the plain white box sitting, hidden away, in one of my drawers, the one that had been hers, and still is. Blinking open my eyes I stare at the room around me, suddenly to small to be comfortable.

I look around as I feel panic beginning to rise in my chest, my heart beginning to pound underneath my breast, trying to escape from the dark confines of my ribs. Without thinking I take off, my feet pounding as I try to leave this place, this hate filled and dangerous place.

* * *

I walk through the door to my home, shutting and locking it behind me. Without even looking around I know that no one else is awake, the occupants of the attic quiet despite the early hour.

As I cross the room the floorboards squeak out there protest to my weight, bearing it far past their expiration date. I try not to look around the room as I walk past the places that remind me of her, of our time together. The couch she had fallen asleep on, after coming here despite a long, hard, exhausting shift at the labs. Of the nights she had called and told me not to expect her that night, but in the end she had turned up at our doorstep anyways, her key sliding into the lock, turning it as she stepped into this place, smiling slightly when she saw me curled up on the couch, watching a movie, waiting up for her because I knew that just like always she would come here.

The first time that happened, that she had appeared despite telling me otherwise, it was the first time that she had slept over without us making love that night. She had fallen asleep on the couch as we watched a movie, and I had simply carried her up to bed, tucking her in in a routine that I have repeated with Kenzi countless times. And I think bitterly, a routine that I had become familiar with for her as well.

I close my eyes as I continue past the kitchen, unwilling to look, knowing that if I do I will see an image of her standing in the domain that she claimed as her own soon after she began to stay over regularly. I knew I would see her pattering around, murmuring to herself chemical equations that I have no hope of understanding, and yet are both endearing and arousing to me despite that. I know I would see her holding a pan full of brownies, her umpteenth apology to Kenzi for the noise that we had made the night before, or any number of other dishes in any other number of containers as she gave me another lecture on my eating habits. One that I would have smiled through, staring at her, lost in her passionate ranting, her eyes alight with a fire that I so rarely saw in her, but if today was any indication one that was not uncommon in the past.

I walk past another area of the clubhouse, the wall near the stairs, and I try not to think about the times that we made love there, unable to make it up to our… my bedroom in time. I close my eyes as I try not to hear her moans and cries of love and passion echo in the creaks of the walls as the winds howl through with the first cries of a storm in the distance. I try not hear myself telling her that I love her, that I want her, that she is the only person I love and crave, lies whispered to appease our hearts and ears, denying my nature to allow us to continue to function for a fraction of a second longer, to keep from breaking down completely in an inevitable storm of destruction we knew was coming but continued to deny.

The first of the steps groans under my weight, and I try not to hear the echo of her cries in my ear as I guided us up the stairs, her thighs wrapped around my waist, the press of her warm body against mine the only protection from the drafty cold of the house. I try not to feel her lips against mine in heated, passionate, slow, and loving kisses. I try not to hear the words of reverence, of pleasure whispered in my ear as we climb what always seemed to be a mountain in order to escape to the place that became our sanctuary in the hills, the only place that we could be together.

When I reach the top of the landing I try not to think of the times that she took me against the wall outside of my bedroom. I walk quicker to try and avoid the thought of the heat of her breath against my neck, the feeling of her fingers as they dance inside of me bringing me to completion in a way that I have never known before or since her.

When I enter my bedroom, closing the doors behind me I have to ignore the feeling of her hands ghosting over mine as I remove my clothing, stripping away each layer of my garments until I stand within my room, skin bared for the world to see. I close my eyes, knowing that if I open them I will see her standing opposite me, arms open, eyes soft with love, but pupils dilated with lust.

I know as I curl up in my bed, the silken covers, smooth, cool against my skin, that the aching, shredded, heart beating slowly, wounded lay in my chest. It will be warped when I awaken tomorrow. The demon, only calmed by her presence, will return, consume me, whispering words of bitter resentment and deceit in my ear, telling my wounded heart to harden itself to her, to my heart, to my blood, to my warrior, and to my loyal companion.

I will listen, I will harden my heart because the seductive words it breathes into my ear are easier to hear then the truth. That when she walks into my life again, knocking on the door that never fails to let her into her home, into the heart that belongs to her.

I know I will wake up to the iron claws of the demon gripping my mind, the creature banished by Lauren's presence will return. It will whisper words into my ear, its claws will grip my mind, through its machinations and my own weak will I will let it in; I will let it control my actions, words, and thoughts. I will become a demon once again, my darkness incarnate as I become little more than a passenger within my own vessel.


End file.
